Messenger of God
by gibby101
Summary: Angela Winchester has always considered herself the Dawn Summers of her family. She's spunky, adorable, a girl, and has every man she's ever met wrapped around her little finger. But there's something about Castiel that has her double guessing her life...
1. For Every Story There is a Beginning

_The story starts when it was hot and summer and I had it all, I had him right there where I wanted him…_

Well, it was summer when our story begins. And it wasn't really a 'he' rather; it was a 'she'. Getting back on track here… It was hot, and it was summer… June of 1994 to be exact.

Castiel felt honored that Michael had approached him and asked that he, Castiel, a lowly Seraph, watch over the Michael Sword for the length of a human afternoon. After the botched job on his last task from Michael, Castiel was shocked and pleased Michael still trusted him.

Castiel was omnipresence in the dingy motel room just off of I-75 in Lima, Ohio. John Winchester sat at the spindly, generic motel desk poring over an odd assortment of news paper articles and obituaries trying to find the pattern in the senseless killing of fifteen construction workers over the past two weeks. Each worker was from the same union, but was working on different projects across the city at the time of death. Sam Winchester, younger brother to Michael's chosen vessel, was hard at work on his math homework.

Dean Winchester, Michael's vessel and the Righteous Man, was out in the parking lot of the cheap motel tinkering with the engine of the family's black 1967 Chevy Impala. At 16 Dean's future was murky, even to the Prophets the Archangels watched over. Dean would be distracted from the engine of the Impala once every twenty minutes or so when some of the kids from the other end of the motel would start screaming at each other.

Castiel's attention was quickly drawn away from the little Winchester family, not by the screaming children from room 4D, but by the slamming of a car door and a woman swearing, using words that made Castiel blush, and the small child in her arms to cry.

* * *

><p>"Hey, kid." Dean ignored the woman's voice, figuring she was snapping at the damn kids three doors down. He tuned her out and kept working replacing the spark plugs in the engine.<p>

"KID!" she said in more demanding tone for the fifth time and Dean finally looked up from the engine of the Impala, just barely avoiding the hood with his head. Dad had asked him to check the oil and spark plugs while he and Sammy did research for the new hunt. Dean didn't mind, it saved him from spending hours reading miniscule print in foreign languages, sometimes _dead_ foreign languages.

"What?" Dean snapped, then regretted it when the little girl in the lady's, well she was female, but lady barely covered it, arms twisted and looked like she wanted to cry. Her mother's hair was dyed horribly to some sort of platinum white-blond, her makeup was overdone and unattractive, and her clothes were two sizes too small. Her shoes where neon green heels that looked like they belonged in an 80's music video. Everything about her screamed hooker. Well, except for the baby on her hip.

"John Winchester. Where is he?" the woman snapped impatiently as the little girl squirmed in her arms to be put down.

"I don't know who you're talking about, lady," Dean said effortlessly, letting the lie slide from his tongue as he closed the hood to the Impala's engine.

"That's the bastard's car," the woman said using her free hand to point at the Impala. "Where is he? And don't lie to me, kid. I got an appointment at three in Chattanooga."

"Isn't that in Tennessee?" Dean asked. It was one in the afternoon already.

"Cute, kid, but I'm talking about the one in Ohio. Now, where is he?" she asked as the girl began to whine and squirm.

"Angie want down!" the little girl said loudly as she spotted the kids that had been bothering Dean all afternoon down the sidewalk quietly playing hopscotch.

"Quiet," her mother hissed and pinched the little girl's arm, causing Angie, to break out into tears as John opened the door to the motel room.

"Dean, what's going on out here?"

"YOU!" the nameless woman hissed, turning on her hideous looking neon colored heal and marched over to John. "Ruined. My. Life." With the iteration of each word, she jabbed the acrylic nail adorning her index finger into John's chest.

"What?" John asked as he batted her hand away. "Look, lady, I don't know who you are, but you're crazy."

"You were here two years ago, almost three," the woman hissed out. "You picked me up for a night of fun; the condom obviously broke, and left me high and dry with a kid. She's yours, I'm done. Goodbye."

The next thing John knew, he had an armful of a crying two year old, a bag stuffed full of clothes and paperwork for the little girl, and the mother was marching back to her waiting taxi cab.

"What just happened?" Dean asked his father as they watched the taxi drive away.

"I have no idea," John said, looking down at the little girl.

Angela looked at her father and blinked. She had stopped crying when her mother had flounced away and was studying John's face. "Mommy go bye-bye," she said sadly.

John set the toddler on the bed next to Sammy, and riffled through the bag the nameless mother had left at his feet for information on the baby.

"Her name's Angie or something like that," Dean said, closing the door of the motel room.

"What?" John asked him, caught off guard. Having a baby dumped on him out of the blue had thrown him off-kilter.

"When her mom was grilling me about where you were, she said she wanted down," Dean replied. "She went 'Angie want down'. The mom didn't put her down, though, pinched her arm and then you came out."

Sam stared at the girl, and Angie stared at Sam. She stuck her pudgy fingers in her mouth, cocked her head to the side, and decided Sam was an alright person, because she crawled across the mattress, onto Sam's lap and gave him a slobbery kiss on the cheek with a giggle. "Angie wike you."

"I'm Sam," Sam said with a smile and hugged the little girl.

"An-ga-wa Faif Winchusta," Angie said pointing to herself. She beamed; proud she was able to say her full name.

"Hear that, Dad?" Dean asked his father with a mischievous smirk. "The munchkin's name is Angawa Faif Winchusta."

"Cute, Dean," John said with a sigh as he stared at the birth certificate in his hand. The dates fit. Angela Faith Winchester was born on May 4th, 1992, in Lima, Ohio.

Nine months to the day he had stopped and "let loose" as Caleb called it, here in Lima. John smiled as he watched his three children interact on the boys' bed. It slightly un-nerved him that his youngest children's birthdays where within two days of each other.

"Angela Faith sounds weird," Sam said as he made a face at his drool coated tee shirt. "Kinda choppy, like her mom didn't care if her name went."

"You are such a girl," Dean said with a groan and playfully punched Sam's arm.

"Dean, stop it!" Sam whined while John thought his earlier comment over.

"Sam's right, it doesn't go at all," John said, standing up and dropping the papers on top of his research material. "Angela Marie Winchester, on the other hand fits perfectly."

Angela, oblivious to her new name, had set her sights on Dean's amulet and was in the process of turning it into her favorite chew toy.

"Angie! No!" Dean protested when he realized what the baby was doing. "That's not something you can eat."

Angie's hazel eyes welled up and she looked like she was about to burst into tears again. Dean, despite having practically raised Sam and his Puppy Eyes of Doom, was unable to deny the little girl the little amulet.

"Fine, I guess you can chew on it today. But today _only_," Dean said as his newest sibling crawled from Sammy's lap to his.

"What are we gonna do with her, Dad?" Sam asked curiously. "Is she gonna stay with us?"

Dean looked at his father expectantly and hugged the little pudgy person on his lap. Angela had been in their family for less than fifteen minutes and Dean had no intentions of letting her go without a fight.

"Well, her grandparents' address is in this mess of paperwork, so I figure I'll give them a call," John said slowly, gauging the looks on the boys faces. Sam's face fell, as if John had already decided that Angela wasn't staying, and Dean looked pissed. "_After_ we finish this hunt," he added with a smirk of his own as his boys broke into happy cheers.

"Sammy an' Dee happy?" Angela asked, curiously.

"You betcha, kiddo," Dean replied with a laugh. "You're staying with us!"

"Why stay?" Angela asked. She still didn't know that Sam and Dean were her brothers, or that John was her father. "No go with Mommy?"

John realized he had to tell Angela her mother didn't want her. It struck him hard that somebody didn't want this amazing little girl in their life. Sure he had only known Angela for about ten minutes, but that ten minutes was enough to become fiercely protective of his little girl.

"Did your mommy tell you who I am?" John asked his daughter, crouching down in front of Dean.

"You Daddy," Angela said happily. "Mommy say Angie wive wif Daddy."

"Exactly, Princess," John said, scooping up the little girl. "You're gonna live with me and your brothers from now on. What do you think about that?"

"Otay!" Angela said with a giggle and gave John a big slobbery kiss on the cheek.

"Princess?" Dean mouthed to Sam in confusion.

Sam just shrugged, equally weirded out. "Don't look at me," he said. "I'm not the one that brought the baby in."

At four o'clock, John drove off in the Impala, giving the boys strict orders not to let Angela out of their sights at all, or to let her leave the room. Before leaving, John had taken every sharp, pointy, rusty, dull, shiny, broken, or usable weapon out of the hotel room and placed them in the false bottom of the Impala's trunk. The rest of the baby-proofing job was up to Sam and Dean.

"Where Daddy go?" Angela asked from her pillow prison on John's bed. Since they were lacking a playpen, Dean had constructed a make shift pillow playpen with every pillow or couch cushion in the room to keep Angela safe and out of the way while he and Sam finished Operation Make The Motel Room Angela-Friendly.

"He went to get dinner, Squirt," Dean said as he finished taping over the unused electrical sockets. "He'll be back in a little bit, I promise."

Angela fell silent and began to amuse herself with the blanket in her little fort.

Sam finished his third sweep of the room for any weapons John could have missed and sat down to work on his homework again. "Dean, do we have a calculator in here somewhere? I think I left mine in the car."

"Hold on," Dean said and rummaged around his own barely used school bag before tossing a calculator to Sam. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Sam said and got back to work.

Satisfied the room was now 'Angela Friendly', Dean broke down one of the walls in the little fort and turned on the TV to watch mind-numbing cartoons. He found Rugrats on one channel and settled in to watch it.

Angela, wasting no time in her new found freedom, scrambled straight into her brother's lap and watched the TV with rapt fascination, like she'd never been allowed to watch before.

"Dean," Angela said suddenly as Tommy Pickles sprung his equally diaper clad, bald companions from the playpen. "Where Pooh?"

"Where's who?" Dean asked, looking down at his sister in confusion.

"Pooh," Angela said again, her eyes growing in size as they started to fill with tears.

"Your Pooh Bear?" Dean asked quickly, trying to beat the oncoming crying fit.

"POOH!" Angela yelled suddenly as the tears burst out. "Want Pooh!"

"Sam! Help me out here!" Dean cried as he tore through the pillow fort looking for the yellow bear.

Sam abandoned his homework again, and tore through the diaper bag, finding diapers, socks, baby powder, sippy cups, teething rings, a takeout menu, some clothes, but no Pooh Bear.

"It's not in the bag!" Sam said in a panic looking up at Dean. He had no experience with babies and didn't know what to do as Angela's cries became louder. "Did she have it when she got here?"

"I don't know!" Dean said once the pillows had been moved and there was no sign of the bear.

"WANT POOH!" Angela wailed unhappily, beginning to hiccup.

"What do we do?" Sam moaned, resisting the urge to cover his ears.

Just as Dean opened his mouth to reply, John walked into the motel room balancing a child's suitcase, the missing toy in question, and bags of food from McDonalds.

"I think somebody forgot their bear outside," John said, handing Pooh to a sobbing Angela.

Angela grabbed the bear and hugged him tight, her loud sobs and hiccups quieting as she was transferred from Dean's arms to John's. She clung to her father and the bear and mumbled "No go way, Daddy. No go," over and over as John rubbed his hand in circles on her back to calm down the upset two year old.

Finally, after five minutes of sobbing and mumbling, the little girl was worn out to the point of exhaustion, and fell asleep while eating her chicken nuggets.

John put her to bed and returned to the table to discuss the hunt they had been working on.

"What did you find about the thing behind all these murders, Dad?" Dean asked in a low voice, the last thing any of them wanted was to wake up Angela.

"Angry spirit is my guess," John said dismissively. "I called Caleb while I was out getting supplies and dinner. He's going to finish up here. Angela's custody arrangement is a little more important at the moment.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look but stayed silent on the subject. If John wanted to hand off a hunt he'd barely started, that was fine with them. It meant some down time and it also meant that Angela was here to stay.

* * *

><p>The next morning, John had all three of his children up and ready to go by 7:30. Dean grumbled about being up so early, but other than his initial complaint, the boy fell silent and kept the baby occupied.<p>

"Where are we going, Dad?" Sam asked curiously from the backseat of the Impala. Angela was next to him in the brand new car seat, happily munching away on Pooh's ears.

"To see Gertrude Dawson," John replied as he eased the Impala onto the road and into the flow of traffic. "She's Angela's g-r-a-n-d-m-o-t-h-e-r," he spelled out to the boys.

"So you're gonna talk to her about keeping Angela?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder to make faces at the toddler.

Angela squealed in delight and clapped her hands shouting "GAIN DEAN! AGAIN!"

"Sure as hell I am," John said happily. "You boys are here to show her I'm not some lay-about drunk that'll abandon the kid."

"Do you know anything about this Gertrude chick?" Dean asked his father. "I mean, for all we know, she's just as bad as the mom and wants nothing to do with Angie."

"Then her loss is our gain," John said with a shrug. He was personally hoping he wouldn't have to fight for Angela's custody and that the grandmother would sign it over with no fights.

It took the little Winchester family almost a half hour to cross town to get to Gertrude Dawson's apartment in Lima Heights. On the way across town, to Dean and John's delight, Angela loved AC/DC and Kansas. The second they changed the radio station to something other than classic rock, she had a mini temper tantrum in her car seat. Sam had been clocked with Pooh's head, and the little plastic eyes had actually hurt when they made contact with his skull. Sam was not amused and begged them to change the station back for the safety of his own skull.

Pulling into the first available parking spot he could find in the Lima Heights development, John killed the radio and engine and turned to his sons. "I don't care what goes on while we're in this apartment, I want the two of you on your best behavior. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Sam and Dean answered in unison as Sam began to unbuckle his sister.

"Good, let's get this over with," John said, getting out of the car and straightening his jacket. He was thinking it might have been a better idea to wear his 'FBI' suit and have the boys wear their nicest clothes… but it was too late now to regret not making that decision. Their worn blue jeans, tee shirts, flannel over shirts, and work boots should be enough. They were clean and well fed. He couldn't think of a good reason that Ms. Dawson wouldn't trust them.

Dean and Sam fell in step behind their father, Angela clinging to one hand from each of her brothers as she stubbornly walked on her own, recognizing the buildings around her. "NANA!" she squealed happily. "Nana live here!"

"She does, does she?" Dean asked with a chuckle.

"Ahuh," Angela said, nodding excitingly. "Me and Mommy live wif Nana!"

John's step faltered. He hadn't been expecting that Angela and her mother lived with her grandmother, but then again he should have. What self-respecting hooker raises a kid on her own? None. They get help from their family. Or their pimp.

John ignored the growing fear of not getting to keep Angela and knocked on the door to unit 47A, Gertrude Dawson's home, and waited for the door to open.

* * *

><p>Castiel was already waiting in the sitting area in the home of Gertrude Beatrice Katherine Dawson, an 83 year old God-fearing woman who insisted on helping those less fortunate than her. Mrs. Dawson has almost nothing of her own, but she insisted on giving to those who had even less. That was how Sheryl Antonia Gabriella Lorenzo Parker, or Candy as she was known to the Lima Police Department and her clientele, and Angela had ended up living with Mrs. Dawson.<p>

The old woman had taken pity on the streetwalker and invited the young woman to stay with her while she was pregnant and after the birth of Angela. Gertrude was more of a mother to the child than Sheryl could ever or would ever be.

Mrs. Dawson had just sat down in her Spartan living room with a fresh mug of tea and her knitting when John knocked on her front door.

Castiel watched, silently and unseen, as the older woman gingerly rose from her rocking chair and shuffled to the door to greet her visitors.

* * *

><p>If anything, John had been expecting a woman in her mid 60's to answer the door and demand to know what he and his boys wanted and why his gangly twelve year old was holding her precious grandbaby. He had not been expecting the frail 80-something year old woman in a pink house coat with tufts of wispy white hair to answer the door.<p>

"May I help you dears with something?" she asked calmly, like she was used to opening her door to see strangers in need.

Judging by the size of the cross on her rosary dangling from her neck, John would recon that happened a lot in this neighborhood. "Are you Mrs. Dawson? Mrs. Gertrude Dawson?" John asked nervously.

"Yes, I am she," Mrs. Dawson said, seemingly relaxing even more upon spotting Angela in Sam's arms. "Please, come in and sit down."

"Thank you, ma'am," John said and politely waited for Mrs. Dawson to open the door all of the way before entering her home.

"Nana!" Angela squealed happily and squirmed until Sam set her down on her feet. Once she was on the ground, Angela scampered over to Gertrude and hugged her legs. "I wuv you!"

"I love you too, Little Angel," Mrs. Dawson said with a smile and smoothed Angela's messy curls.

"I come home now?" Angela looked up, hope shining in her eyes. "Daddy and my bwovers too?"

"So you're John Winchester," Mrs. Dawson said with a smile. "Angela has so many of your features, you know."

" I can see that," John said with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh! Where did my manners go?" Mrs. Dawson said suddenly. "Please, sit down! I insist!" she shooed the Winchesters into the living room and made them sit and came back out of the kitchen with a bottle of lemonade and some paper cups. "I apologize, I don't have a pitcher to put this lemonade in," she said, pouring the men a glass each, and then filling a sippy cup with practiced ease for Angela.

"It's fine, Mrs. Dawson, I wasn't actually planning on staying long," John admitted. "I was just coming to inform you that I'm seeking custody of your granddaughter."

"My granddaughter?" Mrs. Dawson echoed. "My granddaughter lives in Flori- Oh! You mean Angela!" She laughed at her own confusion. "I took Sheryl in when she was pregnant, the poor thing said she was looking for a place to stay until she could get back on her feet."

"So, Angela's not your granddaughter?" John asked her, and the fear of losing his baby was swept away.

"Not in the blood sense of the word," Mrs. Dawson said as she fondly watched Angela toddle around the living room and down the hall into her old room. "Her mother packed all of their stuff up last week and told me she was leaving. Claims she found a place for her and Angela to live and she'd be back for the rest of Angela's things later. Am I correct to assume you'll be keeping Angela with you, Mr. Winchester?"

"You are, Ma'am," John answered as Angela came back down the hallway tugging her favorite baby blankie with her.

"Daddy! Look! It's Blankie! Mommy said Blankie went bye-bye! I found Blankie!" she cried excitedly and crawled into John's lap and smiled contentedly. "We stay with Nana?" she asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry, Princess," John said and kissed the top of her head, "but we're not staying with your Nana. We have to go bye-byes too."

Angela pouted and wiggled off of her father's lap and trotted over to her Nana. "Nana, Daddy say we go bye-byes," she informed her pseudo grandmother. She hugged Mrs. Dawson and walked back to Dean and Sammy. "Up!" she said to Dean, and her brother swooped her up with a laugh.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Dawson had insisted that the Winchesters stay for lunch, and hadn't let them leave the table until everyone had eaten a third sandwich. Angela sat in her own highchair and happily munched away on her PB&amp;J with no crust while the adults discussed moving her furniture out of the small apartment.<p>

Her attention, however was on the ceiling of the kitchen. Nana had told her once upon a time that Papa Dawson had painted a special picture on the ceiling with yellow paint and called it a Devil's Trap.

Angie had tried on several different occasions tried to trap things in the Devil's Trap, but it hadn't worked. Angie didn't care, she thought it looked cool and decided to bring it to her father's attention.

"Daddy, looky!" she pointed up to the Devil's Trap. "Papa make Debil's Twap!"

John jerked his head back and saw the faint outline of the Devil's Trap on the ceiling and smirked. "Hunter?" he asked Mrs. Dawson with a smirk.

"My late husband was, yes," Mrs. Dawson said with a smile. "I take it you're in the life?"

John nodded. "I am."

"Then I have all the faith in the world that Angela is in the best hands possible," Mrs. Dawson said with a smile and Angela cheered happily.

* * *

><p>"And that's how you ended up in our family," Dean recited for what seemed like the millionth time in his lifetime.<p>

Seven year old Angela smiled sleepily, and curled up next to Sam. "Will Dad be back soon?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah, he'll be back in a few days," Dean said exchanging a look with Sam. Before he could add anything else, Angela was out like a light

* * *

><p>Like it? Hate? Indifferent? Let me know!<p> 


	2. The Formative Years

Michael's business had taken longer than expected, and Castiel found himself watching over Dean Winchester and his family for an entire week after Angela's arrival. Something about her soul was so familiar, achingly familiar in fact. Castiel marked it up to the fact she was Dean's sister.

He ignored the niggling feeling there was something more to the small human child that was toddling around the motel room under the watchful gaze of Sam as John and Dean packed all of the family's belongings into the Impala.

Castiel couldn't fight the smile on his face when Angela successfully walked around the motel room twice without falling. The Winchesters were three hours from the home of Pastor Jim Murphy. It had been a week since Castiel's initial assignment from Michael.

"Castiel," speaking of the Archangel, Michael appeared as omnipresence in the small motel room. "Who is the small human? She was not here the last time I checked on Dean Winchester."

"She is Angela Marie Winchester," Castiel replied dutifully. "Her mother is a hooker and not of import. She left the child with John Winchester to be raised with the boys."

"Who is the mother, Castiel?" Michael asked his brother, and stopped. Angela had looked up from her Pooh Bear and was staring straight at Michael. Not through him to the television behind him, but AT him. "Ariel?" he whispered hopefully, but Angela turned back to her brother squealing about something and the moment was over. "Castiel, your new task is to annually check in on this family. Stay with them for two weeks. Report back to me." Michael said with a sigh and longingly gazed at the child. "Balthazar will continue with the search for Ariel."

"Of course, Michael," Castiel said tersely. He understood that Michael wanted him as far from finding Ariel as possible, but Father be damned, it was his MATE that was missing. She may have been the only fledgling since Lucifer to spend almost every hour of every day with Michael, but Castiel had more claim to her now.

"Brother, I'm not punishing you," Michael said quietly, understanding Castiel's ire. "I've even removed myself from the search. Balthazar will be answering to Zachariah, who will report to me. We will find her, Castiel. I promise you that."

Castiel nodded and took one last look at the Winchester family before him. It would be an entire year before he found them again, and he was drawn to the family like a moth to flame.

* * *

><p>Angela grew like a weed. John had a hard time keeping her in clothes, with a growth spurt every summer, her winter clothes wouldn't fit the next year. Her baby fat was slowly receding, and her squat pudgy frame was becoming thin, and all limbs. She looked a little like a colt, all arms and legs, with her chestnut colored curls bouncing all over the place. She was eternally glued to Sam or Dean's sides while John was away on a "business trip", and upon her father reappearing in their small apartment in Peoria, Illinois, she'd become John's shadow.<p>

Castiel visited the Winchesters in Peoria twice. The first visit held nothing of consequence; Angela was three, Sam was thirteen, and Dean was seventeen. The family had gone on several trips with John, but kept a primary residence for stability in Angela's little life. Stability that went out the window after an incident at the local high school between Dean and the Mayor's daughter involving a late movie, mayonnaise, compromising positions, an epi-pen, and a goat.

The Winchesters disappeared from Peoria overnight.

The years flew by to Castiel as he watched all three of the Winchester children grow into remarkable young men and an adorably determined young woman.

* * *

><p><strong>September 2000<strong>

"DEAN!" seven year old Angela squealed happily as she scampered into the motel room after her third day of school.

Dean strolled in behind the energetic girl at a more subdued pace and set her back pack down on an unused luggage rack. "What, Squirt?" he asked her as he collapsed onto his and Sam's bed.

"Can you help me with my homework?" she asked with her big doe eyes, fluttering her eyelashes like Sam had instructed her to.

Dean groaned. It was impossible to refuse the kid when she used that face. He was going to kill Sam for teaching her that. Speaking of Sam… "Where's Sammy?" he asked his sister as he moved from the bed to the table.

"He said he had to stay after and he'd be home for dinner," Angela recited as she opened her backpack. "When's Daddy coming back?"

"I told you this morning," Dean said with a sigh, "I don't know. Pastor Jim said he'd call us if he and Dad take longer trying to help the Joneses than expected."

"How long is _that_ gonna take?" Angela asked as she flipped open her spelling book and took out all of her homework for the night.

"A week, maybe two," Dean said catching the disappointed look the flitted across his sister's face. "Hey, we can have fun without, Dad, can't we?"

"Yeah, but it's Daddy," Angela said forlornly. "He's almost never around anymore."

"He's working, Angie," Dean said with a shrug. "He'll be back soon, I promise." Dean knew this was another promise that would fall through. He tried to not make promises about when Dad was coming back to protect Angela, but this time he couldn't help it.

"Okay," Angela said and glared at her math worksheet that was nestled inside of her spelling book. "I hate math," she announced after two minutes of trying to determine the magic behind an input-output table.

Dean took one look at her homework and his face fell. "You're in first grade," he said groaning. "I didn't learn this stuff until fifth grade. Why is this being taught to you? Can you even do division yet?"

"What's division?" Angela asked. "It sounds hard."

Dean groaned; it was going to be a long night.

Sam made an appearance in their dinky motel room after five, armed with food from the diner down the street, and Dean forgave him for being so late, primarily because Sam brought an entire apple pie.

Angela was happy because both of her brothers let her polish off their French fries in addition to her own and her chicken fingers.

Dean laughed as Angela clambered up Sam's back to get her favorite headband back, and turned on the TV.

Dean flipped through every channel on the crappy TV set, and it was the same thing, weather bulletins. "Sam," he said trying to not upset Angela, "grab all our gear and put it in the Impala's trunk."

"Dean, why? It's seven thirty at night," Sam said protesting. He liked this little town in the middle of Kansas. He had a few friends, and knew that Angela loved first grade and her teacher, Mrs. McGee.

"Sam now," Dean said pointing to the TV, thankful that Angela hadn't learned how to read just yet.

Sam saw the words "Tornado Watch" in red lettering across the bottom of the screen, and their county highlighted along with three others, and started throwing clothes into bags, trash into the barrel, and sent Angela into the bathroom to get their toothbrushes and her comb.

"Deano, why are we packing?" Angela asked sleepily as she stuffed her Pooh Bear into her backpack along with her school things. "I have school tomorrow!"

"I know you do, Baby," Dean said as he triple checked the room to make sure they had everything packed away. There were no signs of any weapons left behind, no books, no toys, and no God forbid, signs of Blankie being left behind, again. Once was bad enough, and Dean had taken it upon himself to triple check all of Angela's things made it out to the car before leaving a motel.

"So why are we leaving?" she asked, clinging to Dean's neck with one hand, and to her second hand purple Disney Princess backpack with the other.

"We're going to Uncle Bobby's because there are some really bad storms coming our way," Dean said, struggling to come up with an age appropriate explanation of tornadoes. "And the safest place to be when these storms are happening is someplace with a basement."

"Uncle Bobby has a basement!" Angela exclaimed as they exited the motel room and headed for the Impala. "We'll be safe there!"

"Exactly," Dean said with a smile and buckled the little girl into her car seat.

"We're checked out, and the manager gave us the refund for the rest of the week," Sam said, slamming the passenger door closed behind him. "We're good to go."

Angela was down and out for the count twenty minutes into the car ride. It took eight hours of continuous driving to get to Bobby's in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Eight hours of the Impala's purring engine, storm-damaged highway, and Sam bitching about the same AC/DC, Metallica mixed tape series.

When the Impala turned into the driveway to Singer's Salvage at four am, Bobby was standing on his front porch, arms crossed over his plaid shirt clad chest, his hat pushed back on his head, and a worried expression on his gruff face.

"Figured you kids would show up sometime tonight," Bobby said as Dean and Sam emerged from the classic car. "Saw the tornado warnings on the news and knew you three were in Kansas."

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam said as he opened the back door to retrieve the sleeping Angela. Angie stirred, but realizing it was only Sammy, she snuggled into his chest happily. "We've been driving all night to get out of the way."

"Your room's all set up," Bobby said, pulling his hat back down onto his forehead. "Well almost set up. Angela's cot's up in the attic. Caleb blew through town last week. You kids'll have to share for the night."

"Not a problem," Dean said, closing the trunk to the Impala and grabbing their bags.

* * *

><p>Angela woke up the next morning snuggled between Sam and Dean on the Queen sized bed in Bobby's guest room. Cracking open her eyes, the seven year old assessed her surroundings and realized she had enough wiggle room to move her legs from under Dean's arm and the rest of her off of Sam's chest without waking either of her brothers up.<p>

Just when Angela thought she was free to go pester Uncle Bobby about letting Rummy into the house for the day, Sam started to wake up. Angela froze.

"How long have you been up, Angie?" Sam asked, sleepily.

"Not too long," Angela said shrugging. "I was gonna go potty and ask Uncle Bobby for pancakes."

"You were going to ask him to let Rumsfeld into the house, weren't you?" Sam asked her as he picked her up and set her on the bedroom floor.

"Yes," Angela said looking at her feet. "He's a fun puppy!"

"Babe, he's a guard dog, not a house pet," Sam told his sister as he got out of bed and tossed his pillow onto Dean's face. Dean didn't stir. And Sam got this look on his face.

Angela had learned to associate this look with quite a few things, most of them ending up with Sam attempting to humiliate Dean publicly with Dean retaliating causing Sam to become a hermit who refused to leave the motel room/apartment/rented house until he regained his dignity.

"Sammy, what are you planning?" Angela asked, looking from brother to brother as Sam's small but incredibly cocky smirk broke into a shit eating grin.

"We, my darling little Princess Angela, are going to get revenge on Dean for every prank and not funny joke we've been on the receiving end of," Sam informed Angela as he began to sift through Dean's bag and extracted a bottle of Nair. "Starting with the Nair Incident of 1997."

Without any further instruction, Angela darted down the hallway to the bathroom, grabbed Dean's shampoo and handed it to Sam in the hallway with a giggle, and raced down to see Uncle Bobby about pancakes for breakfast.

Dean waited until about two hours after he woke up to shower, and Angela knew she and Sam were busted the second Dean started cussing up a storm in the bathroom upstairs. She looked up from her spelling book, no sense in falling behind the other kids before she got a new school, to glance at Sammy. Sam in turn actually looked sheepish.

"I forgot how much that stuff burns…" Sam said, nervously glancing at the stairs. "Maybe I shouldn't have used the entire bottle…"

"SAM!" Dean shouted from upstairs. "I'M GONNA RIP YOUR LUNGS OUT!"

Angela shrugged at the empty threat as Sam cowered behind a couch, hugging Rummy and trying to read one of Uncle Bobby's smelly silly made up language books. "Why is Deano gonna rip your lungs out?" Angela asked innocently.

"We put Nair in his shampoo," Sam said quietly as Bobby walked into the house from the scrap yard.

"What's Dean yammering on about now?" Bobby asked as he cleaned his oil coated hands off with a greasy rag.

"Sammy and me put Nair in his shampoo," Angela informed her Godfather dutifully. "But I don't know why it's makin' him yell."

Bobby doubled over laughing, grabbing the door frame between the kitchen and study for support as he laughed. "You put Nair in his shampoo?" he gasped out between laughs.

"Yupp," Sam said nervously. They could hear Dean slamming things around in the bathroom and the door being thrown open. "Shit!" Sam said and he tried to get up to run away. Rummy wouldn't move. Sam was trapped by a seventy pound Rottweiler and was a sitting duck for his pissed brother.

"Language," Bobby said with a smirk as Dean thundered down the stairs to confront his siblings.

Angela's jaw dropped when she saw her brother. Patches of Dean's hair were gone, and the remaining splotches looked like something out of a horror movie. "Dean, what happened?"

"_Sam_ is what happened," Dean growled out, catching sight of Sam's full head of hair behind the couch. "He put Nair in my shampoo!"

"Sammy," Angela said, turning on the couch and dangled herself upside down so she was face to face with Sam. "How come you didn't tell me it was gonna take Dean's hair off?"

Dean made some kind of noise that reminded Angela of talking underwater, and she leaned back and fell onto the couch and looked at her brother as the blood rushed out of her head. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"You….you were in on this?" he asked in disbelief.

"Sammy said it would be fun," Angela said, ratting out her brother. "And we were bored. You were sleeping."

* * *

><p>For punishment and slight retaliation, Dean didn't enroll Angela or Sam in school in Sioux Falls until a week after they arrived at Bobby's. Their old school in Kansas was incredibly understanding about their rather abrupt overnight departure and sent their school records to the Sioux Falls Public School system without a problem.<p>

As Dean drove them into town, Angela's nose pressed up against the glass of the window in the back seat taking in her surroundings, and Sam in the passenger seat triple checking his school supplies, Sam finally spoke up about their new schools. "Why are we going to school here? I mean, out of all the times we've stayed at Uncle Bobby's, Dad never had us enroll here."

"Well Dad's not here," Dean said, smirking at Angela, who was now busy making smiley faces in the condensation from her breath on the window. "And I talked to him last night, and he said to put you guys in school."

"You talked to Daddy?" Angela said, pulling away from the window and bouncing up to the front seat. "What he did he say? Does he miss us? Is he coming back soon? Are we meeting him somewhere?"

"Whoa, down, Monkey Girl," Dean said as Angela tried to climb over the front seat. "Sit down before we get pulled over."

Angela slumped back in her seat and pouted, waiting for Dean to answer her.

"Right," Dean said laughing at her pouty face. "Dad says he missed you and loves you, just as much as he loves me and Sam. You need to eat your veggies, do what Uncle Bobby tells you to do if Sam and I aren't around, and Pastor Jim needs his help with some Church stuff, so it'll be another week or so before he can make it out here."

"Can I call him tonight?" Angela asked, hopefully. She still didn't know her father was a hunter.

"We'll see," Dean said with a shrug. He wasn't sure how much longer they could keep this a secret from Angela. "Maybe if you're lucky, he'll call us."

"Okay!" Angela beamed as Dean pulled up to Sam's high school. "Bye, Sammy! Have fun at school! Make new friends! And Dean wants you to get a girlfriend!"

Sam paused in getting out of the passenger's seat and gave his older brother a glare that could melt an ice berg. Dean fondly referred to it as 'Bitchface No. 5'. "Gee thanks, Dean," he said with a huff and headed for the high school.

Halfway from the car to the door, Sam turned around and shouted, "Bye, Angie! Make some new friends, okay Squirt?"

Angela waved to her brother again, and once his back was turned, clambered over the seat into the passenger's seat. "SHOTGUN!" she shouted happily.

Dean laughed. "You remember the house rules, Short Stuff?"

"Shotgun picks the music, driver shuts his cakehole," Angela said with a glint in her eye.

Dean threw his head back and laughed a deep throaty laugh that Angela hadn't heard in weeks. "Close enough," he said when he could properly breathe again. "Just don't tell Sammy we changed the rules."

"You got it, dude!" Angela squealed. Dean groaned. He knew letting Angela watch Full House would come back and bite him in the ass.

* * *

><p><strong>December 24<strong>**th****, 2001**

Eight year old Angela snuggled down deeper into the blankets in her room at Uncle Bobby's. The past year had seen the unused guestroom down the hall from Sam and Dean's room became the perfect little girl's room. Just as she was about to drift off again, it was Christmas Eve after all, and she should be allowed to sleep in, the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine approached Bobby's house, causing Angela to launch herself out of bed.

"UNCLE BOBBY! UNCLE BOBBY!" Angela shouted as she raced down the stairs, Rumsfeld at her heels, "Sam and Dean are here!"

"No running in the house, Angela," Bobby said, not looking up from his demonology text as he researched something for Garth, one of his hunting buddies. Angela still had no idea why Bobby kept those books lying around the house or why he was constantly reading them and making phone calls in the middle of the night while she was supposed to be sleeping. John and Bobby agreed that it would stay that way as long as possible.

"But, Uncle Bobby," Angela whined coming to a halt in the hallway. "Sammy and Dean are here!" Rumsfeld came to stop after running straight into her legs and whined at his sudden collision. "I haven't seen 'em since Halloween!"

Bobby sighed and kept flipping through his books. "Then why the hell are you standing in the hall? Go out and give those idjits what for."

A huge grin emerged on Angela's face and she raced outside shrieking her brother's names happily. "DEAN! SAMMY! YOU'RE HERE!"

Sam and Dean climbed out of the Impala with their biggest shit eating grins on their faces the eight year old bundle of energy jumped off of Bobby's porch steps and straight into Sam's arms squealing as Rumsfeld ran circles around their feet barking happily.

"Hey there, Princess," Sam said, squeezing his sister in his special Sammy Sized Bear Hug. "I missed you so, so, so much."

"I missed you more," Angela said, squeezing back tightly and nearly cutting off Sam's oxygen. "Don't leave me like that ever again. Never."

"And what am I," Dean protested from next to Sam, "chopped liver?"

"Dean-o!" Angela cried happily and was transferred from one brother to the next. Dean held Angela in front of him with her arms wrapped around his neck. "I missed you, too!"

"I know, Angie," Dean said with a smile. "I missed you so much, kiddo."

"Then why do you keep going away?" Angela asked sadly as she continued to cling to her oldest brother. "I don't want you to go anymore."

"I know you don't, Angie," Dean said as he settled the girl onto his hip and they headed into the house. "But it's our job that keeps us moving around, kiddo."

"Can I come with you?" she asked hopefully. She knew from Uncle Bobby's and Miss Pamela's stories that Sam and Dean got to go with Daddy when they were her age while Daddy was 'job hunting'.

"Not a chance," Same said, closing the front door behind Rumsfeld. "Dad wants you in school and not moving around all the time. I should have graduated high school by now, but I didn't because we moved so much and I missed so much school. We all want you to finish school in one place."

"But I miss you guys," Angela said, the tears welling up in her eyes.

"We miss you too," Dean said, hugging her even tighter. Over Angela's head, Bobby and Dean exchanged a series of looks that came down to Dean silently begging and Bobby finally giving in. Angela didn't notice Sam slipping out of the room to make a phone call. "Me and Sammy'll try to swing by more often to come and visit you. I promise."

"Really?" Angela asked hopefully. "You really mean it?"

"Really, really," Dean replied and set the girl down on the floor. "Come on, let's let Bobby get back to whatever it is he's up to and go unpack upstairs."

Angela beamed and tugged Dean up the stairs chattering a mile a minute about everything that had happened to her since Halloween, including how Missy Smith had thrown a huge birthday party in November and there were BOYS at the party, and she filled him in on the quiet Thanksgiving Dinner had put together for himself, Angela, Miss Pamela, Mister Joe Turner, and Mister Rufus.

At the mentions of the Thanksgiving Dinner, Dean felt guilty. He and Sam had meant to be there. Hell, they'd even fallen short of promising on their mother's soul they'd be there, but at the last minute, the hunt they were on with Dad went south and the cleanup had taken far longer than any of the Winchester males had anticipated.

"Did you bring me anything cool for Christmas?" Angela asked, pulling Dean out of his musings.

"I'm not telling you, Runt," Dean said with a laugh and dumped his duffle bag onto the cot he slept on in the spare bedroom he and Sammy called theirs. "Even if I did have something cool for you, I couldn't tell you. That's cheating."

"It was worth a shot," Angela said with a shrug. "But then I'd better get out of here so I don't see my presents by accident."

"Fine, fine," Dean said shooing her out of the room. "Go bother Sam for a few hours, will ya?"

* * *

><p>Castiel watched with interest as the Winchester siblings fell into their comfortable grooves with each other and Bobby shouted out reminders about loaded shot guns in the linen closet.<p>

Angela hovered in the doorway to her brothers' room for the better part of a half hour before Sam took pity on the girl and took her out into the salvage yard to play keep away with the dog to let Dean unpack their things. Since Castiel had been assigned to look in on this family unit of humans, he'd been amazed to see how she reminded him of his missing mate. After eight years of searching, there was still no trace of Ariel.

Castiel and Michael knew she wasn't dead because the fragments of her Grace that had fused with her father and mate's respective Graces were still pulsing away happily, with a steady soothing rhythm of "I'm alive! Come and find me!"

Castiel was pulled from his musings on top of a rusted heap of snow covered cars as some sort of Chevy truck turned up the drive to Singer's Salvage. He watched in curiosity as Angela dropped the ball Sam had thrown her and raced through ankle deep snow to the truck as it pulled to a stop next to Dean's beloved Impala.

"DADDY!" Angela shrieked happily and ran into her father's waiting arms.

John Winchester picked his daughter up and spun her in a circle as his little Princess cried with joy at seeing her father once again.

Robert Singer and Dean walked out onto the front porch as Angela continued to cling to her father as Sam and Rumsfeld came over to see her.

"Bobby, I don't think we can thank you enough," Dean said, standing next to the man who was like a second father to him. "I don't know what happened between you and Dad to have you threaten to shoot his ass full of buck shot, but him being here for Christmas means the world to Angela."

"I know," Robert said with a shrug. "It's Christmas. Time for family. Even if it means dealing with his sorry ass for a few days, Angela deserves to have her family here."

Dean smiled and headed over to his father and siblings with a grin on his face. "Angie, did I or did I not tell you I got you the best Christmas present ever?"

Angela picked her head up from her father's shoulder and grinned. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!" she screeched, slightly loosening her grip on John's neck.

"Merry Christmas, Baby Girl," John said with a smile and kissed her temple as he carried her back into Robert's home.

Castiel didn't stay to watch them celebrate the birth of his brother, Jesus. He returned home to Heaven and to his family, letting the Winchesters and Singer celebrate in peace.

* * *

><p>You know what to do! Reviews please! Supernatural belongs to Kripke and The CW. *Shakes Fist* BARROWMAN! Ahem. John Barrowman on the other hand has nothing to do with this show or story what so ever. I've just been watching too much Doctor Who themed things on youtube. I only have rights to Angela Winchester. She's mine. I'm just playing in this teeny tiny corner of The CW's sandbox.<p> 


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